Paid In Full
by DragonDancer5150
Summary: Wheeljack thinks his new invention can take on the Cons & make the war a little easier for his fellows.  He bites off more than he can chew, but to his horror, another will pay his price.  G1 cartoon.  Rated M  just in case  for battles & refs to torture.
1. A Slight Miscalculation

Author's Note – This takes from the G1 cartoon about midway through Season 2. There are also hints of reference to my headcanon background for Wheeljack (my "Designation 24601" series). Cybertronian time measurements: vorn = 83 Earth years, stellar cycle = 1 Earth year, deca-cycle = about 3 Earth weeks, solar cycle = 1 Earth day, joor = about two Earth hours, breem = 8.3 Earth minutes, astro-second = .498 Earth second.

Also, THANK YOU THANK YOU to my betas, MyAibou and Ariel D, both of whom are amazing writers, to Lunnaei my first ear and sounding board, and to Elycat for helping me keep the Decepticons IC. ILU guys!

Disclaimer – "Transformers" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Hasbro, Takara, and any other related owners/distributors/producers. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"Paid in Full"  
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 1 – A Slight Miscalculation

_Decepticon Base, bottom of the Pacific Ocean  
Late morning_

How did he get himself _into_ these messes?

Actually . . . okay, yeah, that _was_ kind of a dumb question, he decided.

Wheeljack levered himself up from the narrow berth, propped awkwardly on one elbow due to the shackles binding his wrists. He focused for a moment on the orange and green racing colors adorning his shins where they formed the hood in his Lancia Stratos alternate mode as he waited for his equilibrium circuits to finish recalibrating. Once he felt a bit more stable, he sat up the rest of the way and took in the small room in which he found himself. Three walls were solid metal, the fourth largely consisting of a wide doorway blocked with a barrier of vertical, energized bars. He'd only just regained consciousness – and the pulsing circuits in his processor told him he'd likely been out for some time – but he could guess well enough where he was.

Two hundred meters below sea level, in a cell in the brig of the _Victory_, the sunken spaceship that served as the Decepticons' home and base of operations.

_Oh, Primus . . . n-not again . . ._

The Autobot engineer groaned in quickly-mounting horror, curling as memory suddenly washed back to him of the last time he'd been captured many, many vorns ago. This wasn't the black dungeon cell he'd been held in before, though – buried deep underground conveniently close to-! _N-no . . . no, don't think about that_. He made himself look up and take in the comparatively bright openness of his present cell, reminding himself that this wouldn't – _couldn't_ – be like last time. For one, his previous captors weren't here, the _Victory_ almost certainly did not have a dedicated torture chamber as such, and he thought he knew well enough the Decepticons who _were_ here to know that, whatever they might try, it couldn't possibly compare to the nightmare he'd once survived.

That thought calmed him. He'd weathered things once . . . he could do it again. Just like last time, for his friends. He _would_ be strong.

He sat back up, assessing his situation. His shoulder canon was tucked away in subspace, as were his blaster pistol and his whole small arsenal of grenades and sundry gadgets that he normally carried on him. The shackles locked on his wrists – stasis cuffs – ensured that he couldn't access any of it, dampening the subspace energies in addition to restricting his physical movements. Frag. Not that he was surprised but . . . _frag_.

He struggled to his feet, leaning heavily on the wall, only then realizing that something else inhibited his movement as well, making him stiff and slow. A painful leftover from those last attacks that had landed him in this predicament in the first place, he guessed.

_Me an' my brilliant ideas_…

It had all started a few solar cycles ago when some of the guys had expressed concern for Optimus Prime. After all, their valiant commander was always on guard, always on call. He was always the quickest to respond when Teletraan I alerted the group to trouble, always at the very head of any attack – had been for . . . well, for as long as Wheeljack could remember, and he could remember a good _long_ time! That _had_ to be draining, right? Everyone needed some downtime, a chance to _not_ have to deal with things. It wasn't that anyone would advocate that their commander shirk duties, just that . . . well, he deserved an occasional _break_ from them, just like anyone. Wheeljack, for one, had been determined to find a way to help ensure Prime could take one.

He actually succeeded, and none too soon for a rather handy test run, courtesy of that slagheap Starscream and two of his Seeker buddies, Skywarp and Ramjet, who had broken into a nearby Air Force base to filch F-15 Eagle parts for repairs. Most of the Autobot forces, Optimus Prime included, were either out on patrols or axles-deep in projects with various human outfits helping develop defenses and offenses that would stand up to the Decepticons. When Bumblebee, who had been stationed to monitor Teletraan I, had moved to call Optimus Prime, Wheeljack had stopped him. "No need to bother Prime with this one, Bumblebee! It's just three of them, and Megatron's not even one of them! Let's let the others sit this one out."

Understandably, Bumblebee had gazed back at him as though he had a few gaskets loose. "Whaddya mean, don't bother Prime! He's _got_ to-!" The Minibot had cut off as though a thought occurred to him, then settled back with arms folded across his chest and peered up at the inventor, who stood about double his height. "Wheeljack, this doesn't have anything to do with that thingamabob you've been working on for the past few days, does it?"

"Funny you should ask!" Wheeljack had enthused. In the end, he managed to convince Bumblebee to go with him to the humans' military base, just the two of them, where he'd been pleased to find that his new device worked wonders . . . for what it had been designed to do. As this had only meant to be a small test run, what he'd _not_ planned on was the fact that the trio of Seeker Decepticons had been decoys for an ambush, and _he_ was the booby who sprang the trap!

Megatron had indeed been on hand. Wheeljack didn't see the weapon that temporarily shorted his equilibrium stabilizers, but just as a looming Soundwave had stepped up to him where he lay on the ground, he heard Megatron's hated voice from somewhere to his left. "Remember . . . do not damage him. I need him intact." Soundwave hit him with a sonic blast at just the right frequency to knock him temporarily into stasis lock.

He looked around his cell now and hoped that Bumblebee had escaped. If the Minibot field agent had been smart, he'd have burned rubber out of there. Then again, Wheeljack knew the kind-hearted, gutsy little scrapper too well to expect that he would have simply let Wheeljack be taken without a fight.

_Please, Primus . . . just let him be okay._

Wheeljack jumped when he heard approaching footsteps, pressing back into a corner even as he knew it was futile, fear mounting in spite of his best efforts to the contrary. Then, Soundwave stepped into view, his broad-shouldered bulk filling the doorframe. Even considering the Cybertronian ability to mass-shift, it was sometimes hard for Wheeljack to reconcile the other's much smaller tape deck alt-mode with this form. As a mech, he was over head-and-shoulders taller than Wheeljack, a fact of which the engineer was suddenly all too aware in that moment.

"GOOD," the Decepticon intoned in that unmodulated, monotone boom of his. "YOU ARE AWAKE. MEGATRON WILL SEE YOU NOW."

"Sorry," Wheeljack rejoined with a shrug, hoping the sarcasm would cover his nervousness. "Afraid my schedule's full, Soundwave. Have him call my agent – I'm sure I can work him in for sometime next week."

In response, the dark-blue mech pulled his heavy blaster, leveling it at Wheeljack's chest. "CLEAR YOUR SCHEDULE."

Wheeljack flinched and raised his manacled hands in surrender, mentally preparing for what was to come. "C-cleared." Soundwave deactivated the energy coursing through the bars, opened the door, and motioned for Wheeljack to come out. The engineer obeyed, his movements stiff but improving.

They were joined by Dirge and Blitzwing, both ready to help guard the prisoner. Wheeljack kept his optics engaged for any chance to escape, but none presented itself. Too soon, he was led into a large, half-lit workshop space. Megatron and Starscream stood gazing up at an enormous tarp draped over what must have been a _huge_ vehicle or weapon platform of some kind, with Rumble and Thundercracker loitering in shared boredom off to one side as though waiting for something. Wheeljack backed into Soundwave with a gulp. Assuming he had the right weapons on him, he could take on one or two, maybe even three, Decepticons by himself, but not seven . . . and _not_ if one of them was Megatron. The Autobot engineer had yet to come up with anything that could truly harm the powerful Decepticon leader nor incapacitate him for any real length of time. Only Optimus Prime could take on Megatron. And Prime wasn't here. None of the other Autobots were.

_You're really in it deep this time, aren't ya?_ he asked himself as Megatron and Starscream turned to him. He buried his quailing diodes and shored up his backstruts to face them. "Nice place you guys got here. Sorry I haven't come to visit sooner, but . . . well, you know how it goes."

He decided he didn't like the wicked smirk Megatron gave him, the massive, silver-grey mech's tone a false mimic of a host welcoming a treasured friend. "Oh, not to worry, my dear Wheeljack. No offense taken, I assure you. I'm _glad_ you like the place. This is, after all, going to be your new workshop."

Wheeljack scowled at him despite the further foreboding that dropped like a lead slag weight into his manifold. "If you think I'm _ever_ gonna work for Decepticons, pal, you got another think comin'! I never agreed the last time ya tried, an' I'm slaggin' well not gonna this time either!"

"Pshyeah, right," Blitzwing scoffed. "You'll change your tune once yo-"

"Enough, Blitzwing." Megatron stepped up to Wheeljack, towering well over the Autobot engineer. He put a hand on Wheeljack's shoulder and squeezed hard enough to make the sensors threaded through the superstructure begin to protest. Wheeljack started to buckle in pain but caught himself and met the Decepticon's bright ruby gaze with steady defiance.

"You are the one who is mistaken," Megatron purred in a tone of utter confidence, the one Wheeljack knew meant he thought he had a foolproof plan.

A foolproof plan that seemed to center squarely on _him_ this time. _Oh boy…_

Wheeljack reached up, hand closing over Megatron's in a vain attempt to loosen that vise-grip before the plates of his shoulder began to warp, voice stressed with pain. "You can threaten an' torture me all ya want, Megatron, but you should already know that no amount of punishment's gonna get me to cooperate!" Of course, the thought of it scared the transistors out of him – he couldn't deny that – but the thought of betraying his teammates, his friends . . . no, he couldn't let Megatron intimidate him. For them, he'd be strong. Just like last time. _Primus, give me strength_.

Starscream chuckled malevolently, aiming an arm-rifle at Wheeljack's legs. "Tough talk, Autobot. Let's see you put your money where your mouthplate is!"

"Shove it up your afterburners, Starscream!" Wheeljack retorted, backing away as much as Megatron's grip allowed. He shifted to put Megatron between them, but then powerful hands grabbed him from behind to hold him in place. Soundwave. _O-oh, yeah, almost forgot about him._

Megatron, for his part, merely laughed, waving somewhat absently for Starscream to stand down. "Oh, I remember, Wheeljack. You proved far more stubborn than I had given you credit for. I _could_ try to break you, but I need your body and mind intact. You'll work better that way. I have, however, arranged a little . . . incentive . . . to ensure that you _will_ cooperate this time."

Set into one wall was a large, dark . . . looked to Wheeljack like a powered-off monitor of some kind. Megatron let go of Wheeljack's shoulder and motioned at Thundercracker and Rumble, then crossed to a small control panel below the monitor.

Rumble chuckled as he rubbed his hands together. "All _right_! Now the _real_ fun begins." Thundercracker didn't say anything, just turned to carry out his duty. The little blue mech followed the Seeker through a door that looked to Wheeljack like it led behind the monitor.

At the same time, Megatron activated a control on the panel, and Wheeljack watched the monitor lighten and clear as if it had been fogged over, even as the lights in the room dimmed further. The slag lump in Wheeljack's manifold melted into a hot pool of horror and dismay as he realized the monitor was _not_ a monitor but a window into what appeared to be some kind of observation/holding cell.

He wasn't alone here after all.


	2. Stand Up Eight

Author's Note – There's a Japanese saying on courage that I love and that seems to me appropriate here: "Fall seven times, stand up eight."

Cybertronian time measurements: vorn = 83 Earth years, stellar cycle = 1 Earth year, deca-cycle = about 3 Earth weeks, solar cycle = 1 Earth day, joor = about two Earth hours, breem = 8.3 Earth minutes, astro-second = .498 Earth second.

Disclaimer – "Transformers" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Hasbro, Takara, and any other related owners/distributors/producers. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"Paid in Full"  
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 2 – Stand Up Eight

_Decepticon Base, bottom of the Pacific Ocean  
Late morning_

How did he get himself _into_ these messes?

_O-on second thought . . . don't answer that_.

Bumblebee finally worked himself up to hands and knees, unsure how long he had let himself just lie there, dealing, after he'd been carelessly deposited in this cell. His servos still ached and protested the slightest movement. They probably would at _least_ until his diagnostics finished recalibrating – never mind the work of his self-repair systems – but he couldn't wait that long, knowing his captors could come back at any time. He needed to be prepared to act.

Ignoring a growing dread that festered in the back of his mind, he looked around the room, but its only real features were the door through which he'd been brought and a sizable mirror dominating the wall next to it. Bumblebee levered himself to his feet and limped to the mirror, running a hand over its surface.

_Why would there be a mirror in here?_ he wondered. _So a prisoner can admire his captor's handiwork?_ He grimaced at that, even as he took in his battered appearance. His superstructure was scratched here and there, though thankfully not deep enough to score through his paint, and he was covered in dust and mud. He brushed dirt clods from a few crevices, then reached up to touch one of the small horns on either side of his helm when he noticed the thick tip had gotten bent.

He was a bit proud of himself, actually. He'd really only managed to get _himself_ captured, too, in his attempt to get Wheeljack back with no other help available than his wits and his laser pistol – and a handful of human soldiers who'd been more likely to get themselves hurt than they were to damage the enemy. But at least he'd made the slaggers fight for it! His VW Beetle alt-mode was small and not quite as fast as many of the others, but he was one of the most maneuverable. That was, until Skywarp had teleported in front of him and hit him with that variable-caliber machine gun of his, blowing out a front tire and pockmarking the rim of his wheel well and the side of his hood. Bumblebee cast a rueful glance down at his left foot, still feeling the pain of that injury even in his root-mode. He pulled a deep cycle of air, inner cooling fans whirring softly and making a sound like a sigh, as he turned his attention back to the mirror.

_No . . . not a mirror_, he decided. _That really isn't Megatron's style_. He pondered it a moment longer before a possibility finally hit him. _One of those one-way windows, maybe? I remember Ironhide telling me about those once. Yeah, that's gotta be it! Which means . . . it's not solid wall behind this thing but another room._

Which in turn meant another way out. It was always possible that he'd break through only to find himself surrounded again by Decepticons, but he had to try! Making a fist, he punched with everything he had, driving his arm at the glass like a pile driver. The material warped and rippled slightly with a wobbling sound that would have been rather comical had his situation not been so dire. Decidedly unamused, he grimaced and brushed his hand over the spot – _scrap it, not even a scratch._ He'd have to hit it with more force. Since his sole weapon had been taken, he had only one option for that – his alternate mode. He backed into a far corner and transformed, though he didn't bolt all of his components into place, leaving his hands and forearms unlocked. They folded quite handily up under his chassis, and he knew he'd need them.

Ignoring his flat tire – and the hurt of driving on it – he gunned his engine, brake pads engaged until enough pressure had been built, then he sped at the opposite wall, shifting his weight to bounce a bit on his remaining tires before slapping his hands down on the floor with a bounce, further facilitating a leap at the window. His front fender rammed into it…

…only to get repelled with an insulting _bwoing!_ as he was thrown back by the pliant material. He landed on his tires and tried to brake to control his skid, but he wound up spinning out until the corner of his rear fender smacked the opposite wall.

"OW! Owow_oww_…" he complained to himself as he shifted – painfully – back to root-mode and rubbed at his shoulder where he'd hit the wall. "Okay, yeah, _that_ went over well," he muttered.

He stiffened in alarm as low, gravelly chuckling filled the room from unseen speakers. "As amusing as that pitiful display was, my little yellow _bug_, I'd refrain from further attempts if I were you. There really is no call in damaging yourself needlessly. Although, if you are so eager for pain, I can always send someone in to dole it out _for_ you."

Bumblebee gulped as he shot to his feet, staring at the ceiling, then the window, as if by force of will he could look beyond to the source of the hated voice.

Megatron. Primus, he was in so much trouble.

Well . . . well, whatever! He wasn't going to go down without a fight! Glaring at the window and ignoring how battered and non-threatening he looked even to himself in the reflective surface, he shook his fist. "Just come on in here, Megatron. I'm not afraid of you!" Which . . . wasn't true, as a matter of fact – not by a long shot – but he wasn't about to let that show.

There was no further answer, much to Bumblebee's admitted relief. Not that he let that show, either. He did hope they couldn't see him trembling softly, waves of micro-surges jolting through his motor relays, as he took stock of his situation anew. He looked around, but there were no vents he could try to climb into, he'd just verified he couldn't break through the mirror-window, and . . . he tried the door for the smelt of it. Yep, locked. No surprise there. With no more options left that he could think of, Bumblebee began to relent to the growing fear he'd been fighting to keep at bay.

_What do they want? It isn't like the Decepticons to not be in here gloating over a captured Autobot._ Then, a thought occurred to him, and a lead slag weight hit his manifold like a shot from Megatron's fusion cannon. _Because they're busy with Wheeljack? Is that it?_ It had been long before his time, but the little scout had heard about his creator's long imprisonment and torture eons ago when the Decepticons had tried to force him to change sides, to serve them. And now that they'd managed to get their filthy hands on the engineer _again_…!

_Maybe not_, he quickly assured himself. Wheeljack had been knocked completely into stasis, the last Bumblebee had seen of him. He could only pray they were letting the engineer reboot on his own. After all, they'd wanted him for something specific, didn't they? Hadn't he heard Megatron say something along those lines, about _not_ hurting him?

_Please, Primus, just let Wheeljack be all right!_

Still, that left him in his own predicament. The fact that no one had come in yet to harass him was a relief but also troublesome in its own way. It meant they were up to something and they just weren't ready for him yet. _Ready for me to what, though?_ As much as he dreaded it, he was afraid he'd find out soon enough.

_So . . . now what? Just sit and wait for them to come for me? Is that all I can do?_ Bumblebee didn't want to believe it, but what else was there? He crossed his arms and fought down the trembling that vibrated his servos. _Scrap it! If only I'd talked Wheeljack out of going to that military base! Or at least managed to take along some additional backup. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker could have come with us. Then, maybe, we wouldn't be _in_ this mess!_

He sighed again, pulling a deep cycle of air to cool his overheating substructure, as he sank to the ground, his back against a wall and his head in his hands. This worrying was getting him nowhere, but what else was there to do?

_No_, he growled to himself, _don't let them get the better of you like that!_ His usual determination wrestled down the mounting dread and terror. _There's always something more you can do!_ It was a lesson Optimus Prime himself had taught him, and one he had seen put to the test time and again among his fellow Autobots. He had even done it himself.

Eventually, _someone_ was going to come through that door, which meant the door would be opened. Therein lay his key to action. Bumblebee was only too aware of his stature among his fellows as the smallest and weakest of the Autobots, but he was also among the quickest and most agile, and _because_ he was so small, he could be all the harder to catch, especially if one wasn't expecting it. That right there was his best advantage now.

He crept across the room to the wall directly under the window, transformed to alt-mode again, and set himself to wait. The door would have to be opened wide enough to let in a Decepticon and, unless it was Rumble, Frenzy, Ravage, or Reflector – and Bumblebee had serious doubts that it'd be any of them – that Decepticon would be at _least_ twice Bumblebee's size, which meant he would have to open the door pretty wide, with more than enough room for Bumblebee to slip out behind his heels. It wasn't the best plan – that still left anyone outside this room for him to have to deal with – but it was better than nothing, and it gave the smallest Autobot a sense of hope.

Hope that stretched thin with the passage of time.

Bumblebee thought that at least a joor must have passed, with him "dozing off" into a static rest mode to conserve energy and help quiet his processor, before he finally heard the sound he'd been waiting for. A short series of locks clicking over in the wall above had him bringing the rest of his systems back online in an astro-second. Then, the door opened at last. Bumblebee kept still as Thundercracker entered the room, the Decepticon actually stepping well past his position before even pausing to look for him.

Bumblebee gunned his engine.


	3. Nothing But Trouble

Author's Note – Cybertronian time measurements: vorn = 83 Earth years, stellar cycle = 1 Earth year, deca-cycle = about 3 Earth weeks, solar cycle = 1 Earth day, joor = about two Earth hours, breem = 8.3 Earth minutes, astro-second = .498 Earth second.

Disclaimer – "Transformers" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Hasbro, Takara, and any other related owners/distributors/producers. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"Paid in Full"  
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 3 – Nothing but Trouble

_Tail end of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, California  
Two hours earlier_

"Nothing…"

"Uh-oh, here we go," Trailbreaker heard Sparkplug murmur under his breath, groaning softly. The robot-turned-Toyota-camper truck grinned to himself at the human settled comfortably in his passenger seat for the drive back to base, their patrol shift almost over for the day. In the year or so since the Autobots had met them, the Witwickys had gotten to know their Cybertronian friends pretty well, including all their quirks and faults. Trailbreaker knew that the portly, middle-aged mechanic had since developed the same tolerance for Huffer's pessimism that the Autobots had cultivated countless vorns ago.

Still, _someone_ had to humor the guy. "Okay, I'll bite," Trailbreaker called over his speakers to the construction-orange mini truck cab ahead of him. He amplified his voice a bit more than usual to be heard over the air currents as they navigated the rocky, winding road. "What's wrong, Huffer?"

"What? You can't tell?" the construction engineer asked. "It's the Decepticons! They've been too quiet lately, and our patrol hasn't turned up _anything_ yet. I'll bet no one else has found anything either."

_Trust Huffer to turn no news into _bad_ news_, the Autobot defense strategist thought with a sigh. "C'mon, buddy. They're probably just still too pooped after the _last_ time we trounced their transistors to be causing any trouble again just yet."

Sparkplug leaned forward to snatch up the handset of Trailbreaker's CB-radio so that he too could be heard by the other Autobot. "That's right. Hey, if it'll make you feel better, we can ask Bumblebee when we get back if Teletraan One's picked up anything."

"Bumblebee?" Huffer sounded surprised. "Isn't he in town with Spike and Chip?"

"Nope. Prime said he wanted _him_ to monitor Teletraan One today – it was his turn or somethin', I guess." Sparkplug shrugged, not that Huffer could see it. "Bluestreak took'em instead."

"Oh? Hmph. Lucky them. That motormouth'll have them _both_ wanting to pull out his vocal modulator before they ever make it to the grocery store!"

Huffer meant it as a complaint – he meant _everything_ as a complaint – but Trailbreaker just laughed. "Yeah, probably . . . and between the two of them, I'll bet they'd manage it too!"

"Easy bet," the construction engineer grumbled. The two vehicles had reached the rocky, uneven ground on the opposite side of the volcano that was their home, and Huffer braked to a halt just as he rounded a bend. "Hey, Sparkplug, you sure Bumblebee's supposed to be on watch right now?"

"Yeah, why?" the human asked as Trailbreaker pulled up just behind the mini cab on the narrow access road.

"'Cause him and Wheeljack are right below us heading out on the south trail into the forest."

"Huh. Well . . . let's follow 'em," Trailbreaker suggested. "Maybe Prime or someone else called for backup."

"And the more, the merrier, right, guys?" Sparkplug put in.

"I got a bad feeling about this," Huffer fussed in a low voice as he started forward again.

"Oh, quit bein' such a stickshift in the mud, Huffer! C'mon, before they get too far ahead!" Trailbreaker gunned forward just enough to softly bump into the back edge of Huffer's trailer hitch.

"Hey, hey, hey! Watch where you're sticking that fender!"

Trailbreaker responded with another good-natured laugh, and the two sped off after their companions. However, the custom racecar and even his VW bug companion were faster and had quite the head start. It didn't take long for the slower Autobots to lose sight of them.

"Aw, hexagonal nuts," Trailbreaker muttered at length. "Where you suppose they were headed?"

"You're asking _me_?" Huffer retorted.

Sparkplug sighed. "Come on, you two. There's not much out here, really, so not too many places they could have gone. A couple of campsites, maybe. Oh, and that Air Force base about ten miles out."

"An Air Force base?" mused Huffer. "You think maybe that's where they were going?"

"Possibly. There's really nothing else out this way, not for almost seventy miles."

Trailbreaker agreed. "I say let's go for it. Worst that could happen is we're wrong and we head back to base."

"Worst that could happen, Trailbreaker," Huffer pointed out darkly, "is that we're _right_."

Ten minutes later, Trailbreaker and Sparkplug were both forced to agree. The trio stopped behind a stand of trees outside the military base's perimeter fence just in time to watch, helpless, as a sorely-outnumbered Bumblebee fought to free Wheeljack from the Decepticons only to fall captive himself.

"Oh, I _hate_ it when I'm right!" Huffer fretted. "What're we gonna do?"

Sparkplug threw open Trailbreaker's door and hopped out. "We're gonna go save 'em! C'mon! Before the Decepticons get away!"

Huffer transformed to root-mode and gave the human an incredulous look. "_We_?" he asked.

Trailbreaker finished his own transformation in time to catch the look on Sparkplug's face. _Ah…good point_, the expression seemed to convey, but then the human grimaced in determination. "Maybe I can distract them or something so you guys can get in close."

"Are you wing-nuts?" Huffer cried. "We can't take on all of them just by ourselves! They'll scrap us for sure!"

Human courage and resolve never ceased to amaze Trailbreaker, and he was always thankful for this one's help. This time, however… "I'm afraid Huffer's right, Sparkplug."

"I am?" Huffer asked with a start, obviously surprised not to be argued with for once.

Trailbreaker ignored him, still addressing Sparkplug. "If Wheeljack and Bumblebee alone couldn't take these guys on, I don't know that me and Huffer would fare any better, even _with_ your help." Not even at full power, which Trailbreaker wasn't. He'd neglected to charge up and top off his tank before leaving on patrol, and now feared that if he went into combat, even _if_ they could extract themselves and their captured friends, the others just might be _towing_ his fuel-consuming tailpipe home, which would only make them all easy targets for the Decepticons all over again. He cursed his handicaps as he'd done countless times before.

"They're getting away!" cried Huffer, the anguish in the Minibot's tone echoing Trailbreaker's own even as it pulled his processor back to the immediate situation.

The defense strategist had to catch their human companion from darting forward with a growl to stop them. The three could only watch, spark-sick, as Megatron rounded up his mechs and took off, Soundwave carrying a static Wheeljack while Ramjet and Skywarp jetted off with Bumblebee strung and struggling between them. Only then did Sparkplug relent, defeated. Trailbreaker let him go. "We've got to get back to the Ark. We may be the only ones who know they were out here."

"How do you figure that?" Huffer wanted to know, gazing miserably after their captive friends.

Sparkplug nodded, scowling. "Yeah, surely they'd have told someone."

"If anyone else knew, you think those two'd have been out here by themselves?"

Huffer shrugged. "Maybe Wheeljack's got another deal with the humans and was bringing them one of his devices, and they got jumped."

"But if that's what it was," Sparkplug said, his chin in one hand, "then why did Bumblebee come too? He was _supposed_ to be back at base."

"And you can see into those hangers from here." Trailbreaker pointed through the fence and across the runway to the aircraft buildings on the other side, swarming with human military personnel who had turned from the fight to try to clean up the mess left behind. "Those are F-15 Eagles, the same kind of aircraft as the Seekers' alt-modes. I'll bet those Decepti-goons were here for repair parts."

"And Bumblebee found out from Teletraan One, and they came out here to investigate?" Huffer concluded dubiously. "You really think those two would be stupid enough to come out here by themselves?"

Trailbreaker had to admit that it was an idiotic thing to do, but then, Wheeljack – may Primus watch over their beloved "mad scientist" – had been known to do some pretty idiotic things in his time, and Bumblebee wasn't exactly faultless of risk-taking and pulling the occasional crazy stunt himself. The little guy always had been stuck on a groundless need to "prove" himself among his brethren. Now, Trailbreaker just hoped it didn't get him killed.

Rather than answer, Trailbreaker folded back down into his vehicle mode and opened his passenger door for Sparkplug. "C'mon, guys! We need to hurry back and radio Optimus Prime!" Huffer's comm. didn't have built-in encryption, and his own had been on the fritz since a battle two weeks ago. Neither Wheeljack nor the Autobots' maintenance specialist Hoist had figured out exactly what its glitch was, and their medical officer Ratchet had been too busy to look. Trailbreaker didn't want to risk giving away their position, let alone what they knew, to any Decepticons still in the area. They'd just have to hurry back to report in person.

The trio rolled into the base to find that Prime, as well as a few others, had returned from patrol ahead of them.

Sideswipe, Beachcomber, and Windcharger intercepted them as they arrived. "Have you guys seen Wheeljack or Bumblebee?" Windcharger asked without preamble.

Sideswipe was practically prancing with worry. "They should have been back by now!"

"Oh, we saw them all right," Huffer told him. "Up to their drivetrains in Decepticons!"

Both Sideswipe's and Beachcomber's optics flashed in alarm, and Windcharger gaped at him. "_What?_"

Trailbreaker hadn't slowed down, only swerved around the three mechs, and he called back, "Hurry up, guys! We'll report once for everyone!" He noted the other Autobots taking their alt-modes to keep up, and the five sped off together.

When they reached the main control room, Sparkplug jumped out almost before Trailbreaker had pulled to a full stop. "Optimus Prime, we've got a problem!"

Prime turned from a conversation with Prowl, Ironhide, Red Alert, and Sunstreaker, the last of whom looked like someone who feared he might be in deep trouble without knowing for certain if he actually was. Prime's azure-blue optics found the human. "Sparkplug? What is it?"

Trailbreaker answered before the human could, transforming to root-mode as he did so. "It's Bumblebee and Wheeljack – they've been captured by the Decepticons! I'm sorry, Optimus Prime. There wasn't anything we could do."

"I knew those two were headed for trouble!" Huffer cried.

Red Alert gasped in dismay. "Oh, that's no good at all!"

Trailbreaker saw Prime stiffen in alarm, optics flaring, even as more cries of worry and outrage passed through the rest of the company like a breeze before a gathering storm. The Autobot commander hesitated only an instant, then raised a hand for silence and addressed Trailbreaker. "If there had been, I'm sure you would have done what you could to help." His gaze took in all three. "Tell me what happened."

"We were just coming back from patrol," Sparkplug explained, "when Huffer spotted them heading away down the south road into the forest. We followed them out to the Air Force base, but by the time we'd caught up that close, they'd both already been captured."

_No thanks to me_, Trailbreaker thought bleakly. _If I weren't so slow, maybe we coulda gotten there in time to help!_ He knew that Huffer had been pacing him rather than reaching the base as fast as he could have. It was a sound thought – better to arrive _with_ your backup than ahead of it – but still…

"That sneaky little runt told me they were just going out to test one of Wheeljack's crankcased ideas and they'd be right back! Three breems, tops!" Sunstreaker complained, his tone petulant. "Not our fault if they were stupid enough to think they could take on Decepticons by themselves while they were at it."

Sideswipe nodded. "We had no reason to check Teletraan One for activity until they didn't return. Bumblebee must have already shut off the alarm before he came to find us."

"Why would he do that?" Prowl wanted to know. "There's no logic to such an action."

"Is there logic to _anything_ Bumblebee does?" Huffer pointed out. "Or Wheeljack, for that matter?"

Windcharger snickered. "Put that way . . . yeah, they _do_ make a pair, don't they?"

"They do both seem prone to trouble, each in his own way," Beachcomber mused.

"Huffer!" Sparkplug admonished at the same time, sounding surprised at the comment.

"Autobots!" Prime rumbled, his deep, resonant voice sharp to halt the brewing argument before it could break. Everyone quieted instantly, and the Autobot commander shook his head. "I'm sure Bumblebee thought he had a good reason, Prowl, Huffer. For now, though, we can't worry about that. We need to concentrate on finding and rescuing him and Wheeljack."

"But how?" Sideswipe demanded. "We still don't know what the Decepticons' plans are. They could be anywhere right now."

In response, Trailbreaker watched Prime step over to Teletraan I's controls. He and the other Autobots watched as the supercomputer's little satellite deployed at Prime's command, rising from its storage compartment to float up through a tunnel in the ceiling that led outside. That accomplished, he turned to his men. "Sky Spy will go out over the ocean and try to determine if Wheeljack and Bumblebee were taken to the Decepticons' main headquarters. Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, stay here and monitor Teletraan One. The rest of us will break up into our patrols and scout the region again. As Sideswipe pointed out, it's possible the Decepticons have set up a temporary base somewhere on land, depending on what their current plans are, and _if_ they have, that will be where they've taken our friends."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Ironhide growled.

Prime nodded. "Sunstreaker, radio the patrols who are still out there. Update them on the situation. If they discover anything, they are to radio in immediately with their location and what they've found. They are to hold their position and _not_ act until backup arrives. Contact the rest of us as soon as you know anything." He paused for Sunstreaker's nod of acknowledgment, then turned to sweep his gaze across the rest. "That goes for all of you as well. We don't need any would-be heroes adding to the captive count. Understood?" A murmur of acknowledgment rippled through the gathered Autobots. "All right, then. Transform and roll out!"

Trailbreaker hesitated as the others folded down into their alt-modes around him. "Optimus Prime," he commented quietly, shame coloring his tone, "I . . . I'm afraid I need to stay behind as well. My reserves are low." _Again_. "I need to recharge before I go back out for anything."

Prime had paused his own transformation at Trailbreaker's tone. Gaze on the ground, Trailbreaker couldn't make himself meet his commander's optics as the other regarded him for a moment. Then Prime was putting a supportive hand on his shoulder. "You have done well, Trailbreaker. Go take care of yourself."

Trailbreaker nodded. "Thanks," he murmured, then pulled his gaze up to Prime's, covering his leader and friend's hand with his own. "You guys take care out there, too. And bring those two home safe, all right?"

"Count on it." With that, Prime stepped back and transformed, his Combat Deck rolling up behind him at the summons of a silent radio signal.

Trailbreaker watched the gathering drive out, then turned to head for the recharging stations, his spark heavy in his chest. _Please, Primus, watch over everyone. Let Bumblebee and Wheeljack be all right_.


	4. Brute Tactics

Author's Note: Please be advised – this chapter includes brief depictions of torture, hence the story's rating.

Cybertronian time measurements: vorn = 83 Earth years, stellar cycle = 1 Earth year, deca-cycle = about 3 Earth weeks, solar cycle = 1 Earth day, joor = about two Earth hours, breem = 8.3 Earth minutes, astro-second = .498 Earth second.

Disclaimer – "Transformers" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Hasbro, Takara, and any other related owners/distributors/producers. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"Paid in Full"  
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 4 – Brute Tactics

_Decepticon Base, Pacific Ocean  
Late morning_

Over a speaker mounted next to the window, Wheeljack heard the familiar sounds of a small engine revving and tires peeling, though he didn't see the source. The sounds were met by Rumble's cruel chuckle. "Where ya goin', runt? The party's just startin'!"

"Who are you calling a ru-?" came the indignant retort, but the question cut off at the clang of metal hitting metal, accompanied by a pained grunt. A little yellow VW Beetle skidded backwards into Wheeljack's view.

Thundercracker snorted as he got a foot behind – well, in front of – Bumblebee and punted him. With a cry of pain, Bumblebee was sent rolling roof-over-wheels across the room, where he fetched up hard against the far corner. Wheeljack could only watch as Thundercracker strode after him, the Cassetticon on his heels, and kicked at his passenger door. "C'mon, transform, you little bug. Show me that ugly face of yours."

Wheeljack's horrified stupor finally broke. "Bumblebee!" he cried, jerking from Soundwave's hold to dart forward and pound on the window. "Bumblebee, can ya hear me, buddy? _Bee!_"

Next to him, Megatron laughed. "No, he cannot hear you, Wheeljack." His left hand rested flat over a small, clear panel, a laser scanner below it reading the structure, as he flipped another switch and spoke into a microphone.

_Isomorphic controls keyed ta his unique energy signature an' structural imprint_, Wheeljack thought, scientific mind learning the workings of the panel by observation. _That way, he can keep _me_ from doin' anything. Slag, I'll have to see if I can override it…_

"Thundercracker, pin our little insect up to his display board."

"Yes, Lord Megatron."

Bumblebee had shifted to root-mode by then. Wheeljack saw his optics flare in alarm at the order. Then the little Autobot was diving to tumble forward around Thundercracker's legs in a bid to get himself uncornered, defiantly crowing, "Think fast, big guy!"

"Think faster!" Rumble tackled him, and the two rolled across the floor in a blue and yellow tangle of arms and legs, each grappling for the upper hand.

The much-taller Seeker grunted in distain and knelt, catching each by the scruff and easily pulling them apart. Rumble he deposited unceremoniously back on the floor, while he turned and slammed Bumblebee face-first against the wall, the Minibot's feet barely brushing the floor. Wheeljack winced at his friend's yelp of pain and protest, watched the futile struggle as Bumblebee got his palms on the wall under his shoulders and tried to push back against Thundercracker's hand. Never mind that the Decepticon Seeker was well over twice his height and probably four times stronger. _H-he . . . he doesn't have a _chance_ against those two!_

The engineer could only watch, spark-sick, as Thundercracker pulled one of Bumblebee's arms out along the wall, hand pressing the elbow joint to keep the limb in place. Rumble switched out an arm for one of his signature pile drivers as he retrieved what looked like a super-sized nail from a subspace compartment on Thundercracker's flank with the other hand. The little blue mech hopped up, firing the thrusters in his legs to give himself a bit of height – as small as Bumblebee was, Rumble was still almost a third shorter – and set the pointed end of the stake against the back of Bumblebee's wrist, just shy of his forearm superstructure.

"Since you like 'spikes' so much," the Cassetticon taunted, "here's one that should leave an impression on ya!"

"Ah! N-no, wait! Wai-_AHH!_" Rumble drove the stake home, and Bumblebee's shriek echoed around the workroom from the speaker over Wheeljack's head.

"_BUMBLEBEE!_" With a cry that degraded into a snarl, Wheeljack turned on Megatron, heedless now of the other's greater size and immense power, as he tried to knock the Decepticon leader away from the control panel. "Call 'em off, Megatron! Whatever it is you want is with _me_! Leave Bumblebee _out of this!_"

The engineer's attempt shifted Megatron a mere half-step. The Decepticon overlord turned with a smirk, set a broad, black hand to Wheeljack's chest, and shoved hard. The force sent the smaller mech stumbling away to slam into a wall and slump, momentarily stunned. Vaguely, Wheeljack heard a brief skirmish over the speakers, followed by a second agonized scream that pierced him to his laser core.

_Bumblebee!_ he thought, grief washing through him. _By Primus, what have I done?_

* * *

Agony shot up Bumblebee's arm from his impaled wrist, hot and terrible. He could feel the arcing of energy through the damaged components inside, could see the slow leak of cydraulic fluid dripping from the wound. _P-primus!_ Thundercracker shifted his crouch to change hands, no doubt intending to pull out Bumblebee's other arm for Rumble to do the same. No! He'd be trapped, helpless! Without thinking, Bumblebee bucked his shoulders, twisting hard enough that Thundercracker's hand slid off over one shoulder before he'd gotten it fully in place. Bumblebee pulled his feet up in front of him on the wall and shoved back, turning with his free arm out, hand in a fist, to backhand Rumble away, ignoring the further agony that flashed up his arm as his movements pulled on the spike and threatened to rip his pinned hand from its wrist socket.

Unstable as he was in mid-air on his thrusters, the Cassetticon was thrown off-balance, falling to the floor and skidding across into the opposite wall. "Augh! Hey! You'll pay for that!"

_No doubt!_ Bumblebee thought, quailing in spite of himself, but he'd still had to try.

Unfortunately, he couldn't get his wrist free and couldn't get turned around to attempt to defend himself before Thundercracker slammed him against the wall again with a growl. "Hold still, you little glitch!"

The brow of Bumblebee's face hit with enough force that the impact cracked his right optic lens, blinding him on that side as the sensor went out. He also felt the vehicle windows surrounding his chest crack and spiderweb, shattered by the strikes to his alt-mode roof. Stunned and in pain, he offered no more resistance as his other arm was pulled out, another shriek wrenching from his vocal modulator as new agony lanced through his systems with the second spike. He panted in a vain attempt to cool his stressed substructure, unable to move without pulling on the stakes.

He'd never been in so much pain before. Honestly, it frightened him, but he gritted his jaw, stubbornly refusing the whimpers that tried to escape aloud. He couldn't fight them, but neither did he have to give them the satisfaction of his suffering. Instead, he turned his attention to adjusting his sensory circuitry, attempting to shut off or rewire things to block the pain. _R-ratchet can fix this_, he assured himself, fighting to stay calm by remembering the Autobots' Chief Medical Officer and his unparalleled skill. _No matter what these creeps do to me, Ratchet can fix it!_ But then he thought, _Assuming Ratchet ever finds out…_ It occurred to him that no one even knew he and Wheeljack had been captured. He'd told Sunstreaker they wouldn't be gone long and not to worry about them when he asked the other Autobot to cover his position with Teletraan I. Surely, the yellow Lamborghini-based warrior had started to wonder by now where they'd gotten to. Primus, he and Wheeljack were going to be in so much trouble!

If they ever made it home…

* * *

Wheeljack shook his head to clear the static as Soundwave walked up to him. "ON YOUR FEET," the Decepticon intoned as he grabbed the other's arm and hauled him up. Wheeljack scrambled to his feet, half-afraid the stronger mech would pull the limb from its socket if he didn't obey fast enough. He was dragged back over to the window where he saw Thundercracker shift back from Bumblebee, whom he and Rumble had staked firmly to the wall. The Seeker reached out and grabbed the top of Bumblebee's head, pulling down to force his head back as he loomed over the Minibot. He couldn't hear what was being said.

Wheeljack choked softly at the sight, realizing just how small Bumblebee really was. He had stopped noticing that fact eons ago. Even among the Minibots, Bumblebee was the smallest and physically weakest, but it was rare that anyone commented on or even seemed to think about that fact. Bumblebee's loyalty was unquestionable, his courage unwavering, and no matter the odds, he was always at the head of any skirmish or assault, eagerly keeping up with his larger, stronger brethren seemingly without effort. Optimus Prime himself relied heavily on little Bumblebee for various tasks and missions, and the espionage agent always seemed to come through with flying colors. His bravery and his cheery determination made him seem so much bigger than he really was. Looking at him now, however, Wheeljack was struck with the reality he realized his diminutive creation and friend must have to face every day. Thundercracker had Bumblebee thoroughly subjugated with almost no effort at all, the Autobot's heroic attempts to fight back easily rebuffed as mere annoyances.

_And this is all my fault!_ Wheeljack thought in despair. _If only I hadn't have been so stupid an' thought I could take these guys on with my new invention!_ He could see Bumblebee trembling softly, from pain if not from fear, face tucking into the wall as Thundercracker let go. He did seem to be keeping his calm well enough. _Good ol' Bee. Except the only reason you're even here is ta make sure I cooperate with these slaggers!_ He glanced at Megatron, who in turn was watching him with a smug expression, as if he knew he had the Autobot engineer right where he wanted him. _And he does, doesn't he? But not for long!_ Wheeljack swore, looking back into the holding cell. _Bumblebee, I promise you – I'll get ya out of here. I swear it on my Autobrand!_ He cycled a deep intake of air as he made himself turn away. _One way or any other…_

He looked up to meet Megatron's smirk, his tone dark and determined. "What do you want, Megatron?"

Megatron feigned surprise even as he gestured at the tarp-covered device behind them. "Isn't it obvious, Wheeljack? Well, perhaps not. For all your brilliance as an engineer and inventor, simple common sense _is_ something that consistently eludes you, isn't it?" He nodded at Dirge and Blitzwing, who reached up and yanked the tarp from the structure that filled the middle of the room.

Wheeljack felt his servos lock up in shock and horror. _They've rebuilt my Negavator! H-how . . . how did they do that? I destroyed all traces of the schematics!_ Still, if they had managed to do so, what did they need him for? _An' you know what? Slag you an' your insults!_ The engineer caught a lot of friendly flack from the other Autobots, his friends, for his eccentricities, and he really didn't mind. It was insufferable, however, coming from Megatron. Angry, scared now for his friends as he looked up at the terrible machine, and out of patience, Wheeljack cut a scathing glance over his shoulder at the hated Decepticon leader. "Just get to the point," he snapped.

Megatron's optics narrowed, and he turned to the microphone once more. "Rumble, cleared."

Wheeljack heard Rumble's malicious chuckle as the little blue mech changed out his other arm and set both pile drivers to the backs of Bumblebee's legs. "Not allowed ta offline ya," the Cassetticon sneered, gloating, "but that don't mean I can't take ya apart a little." To Wheeljack's horror, the Cassetticon started pounding at Bumblebee's knees. Bumblebee cried out once, head snapping back. Then, he strangled down on himself so that his cries came out in growls and whimpers, defying his captors to the last.

Wheeljack grabbed at Megatron's arm. "No! Megatron, whatever it is, I'm sorry! Call him off! _Please!_"

Megatron regarded him for an instant, his gaze cold, before giving Rumble the order to back off. The tall, silver-grey mech glared down at him. "You would be wise to watch your tone, Wheeljack. I will not tolerate another outburst like that again."

"I…" Wheeljack glanced at Bumblebee, noting the warped and buckled metal of his superstructure where the pile drivers had threatened to batter clean through his friend's knee joints. The plates of his upper legs had split at the seams, exposing the damaged substructure within. Wheeljack pulled his gaze away, head hanging in shame and defeat. "Y-you're right. I'm sorry, Megatron. Just . . . just don't hurt him anymore!"

Wheeljack turned as he heard Starscream snicker. "You were right, Megatron. How quickly the noble lose heart at the sight of a friend in chains. What?" he continued, his voice a veritable purr – if a screechy one – as he turned his attention to Wheeljack. "Aren't you just glad that's not _you_ in there this time?"

Wheeljack glared, hands clenched into fists below the shackles at the Seeker's derisive tone, but he knew he didn't dare take the bait, for Bumblebee's sake. He'd just have to play along with this sick game of theirs.

For now.


	5. Reconnaissance

Author's Note – Cybertronian time measurements: vorn = 83 Earth years, stellar cycle = 1 Earth year, deca-cycle = about 3 Earth weeks, solar cycle = 1 Earth day, joor = about two Earth hours, breem = 8.3 Earth minutes, astro-second = .498 Earth second.

Disclaimer – "Transformers" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Hasbro, Takara, and any other related owners/distributors/producers. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"Paid in Full"  
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 5 – Reconnaissance

_Autobot Headquarters, tip of the Sierra Nevada Mts., California  
Late afternoon_

"Anything?"

"No, nothing. I'm sorry, Optimus Prime."

Optimus could hear the weight in Smokescreen's voice as the other shook his head. "Don't be. You're doing your best, just as we all are."

Like the rest of the company, Smokescreen's team had covered their assigned sector twice over before returning to base as empty-handed as the others. Next to him, Grapple looked sick with worry, while Hound was far from placated.

"We've got to find them, Prime," the army-jeep-based scout insisted. "And fast! There's no telling what those Decepti-creeps will do to them!"

Optimus grimaced, his optics narrowing. He'd been trying not to think about that. Wheeljack, for all his frequently faulty first (and second, third…) attempts at things, was a brilliant engineer and inventor, enough so that even the Decepticons knew to respect his creativity and his inventions. And Bumblebee was one of the Autobots' best field operatives. Optimus could think of any number of things Megatron might want from either one of them. He remembered the horrific state in which they recovered their engineer friend after the Decepticons had spent a quarter vorn having him tortured him in a bid to force him to switch factions…

Pushing the memory aside, he laid a hand on Hound's shoulder. "We will find them, Hound. And the Decepticons will pay."

Hound started to reply, but Optimus saw him frown instead, the other Autobots taking a collective half-step back from him. Well, not from _him_.

"Hmph. Autobots get in trouble again," came a low, growling voice from behind and slightly above Optimus, the diction just a little slow and precise as if every word had to be consciously chosen. "Dinobots need go rescue their chasses again?"

Grimlock. Optimus made himself count to five – backwards, in Ancient Cybertronian – before he turned and looked up to meet the optics of the much larger mech. He was in no mood to put up with the Dinobot leader's arrogant and frequently subversive attitude, though he kept his own tone level and polite. There was no call in making an adversary – any _more_ of an adversary – of the powerful mech without reason. "_If_ the Dinobots' help is needed, Grimlock, I will ask for it, but thank you for offering."

Grimlock folded his arms and cocked his head. "Maybe it not offered later."

Optimus leveled a steady gaze in return, recognizing the seemingly innocent observation for what it was. The majority of his and Grimlock's interactions were like this, tests that challenged his authority and his handling of situations. "Then it will not be expected later. Either way, I will deal with that when 'later' comes." He started to turn away but paused at a thought. "Actually, Grimlock, I could use Swoop's help for some aerial reconnaissance." _If you're willing to lend him._ As much as Optimus disliked relying on the Dinobots, he had to admit that he did need _someone_ who could fly. Ratchet and Hoist were still repairing Powerglide from a particularly nasty encounter with a flight of Seekers just yesterday, Skyfire was in South America with a human group of fellow scientists investigating some mountain ruins, and Cosmos simply wasn't equipped for atmospheric flight. Like it or not, the pterodactyl-based bombardier currently was the Autobots' best hope for covering large tracts of land quickly, and time could well be of the essence for their missing friends.

Plus, Optimus knew what few Autobots realized – that despite his terrifying appearance (even for a Dinobot), Swoop was rather good-natured and upbeat and, of all the Dinobots, could actually be trusted. For the most part.

* * *

Swift, frigid wind flowed over thin and fragile wingskins, and Swoop loved it. Swoop loved the whorls of air in the wake of his wingclaws, the tickle of lifting air pressure sliding down his body, even the wind resistance on his face, sliced easily through by his narrow beak. Swoop let himself dip and soar one more time for a moment, exulting in the experience, before returning his attention again to the matter at hand, the vista of open ground below rushing by under his line of sight. Swoop's creator was missing, along with one of the friendlier Autobots, one who didn't look at the Dinobots – including ugly, frightful Swoop – with quite the same fear as some of the others, and Swoop was determined to find them both. Swoop knew the non-Dinobot Autobots had been looking for hours now, but none of them could fly like Swoop could. With his leader Grimlock's okay, Swoop had eagerly agreed to Optimus Prime's request. Swoop had been itching to help – he really had! – plus any excuse to go flying was a good one to him. Swoop would never turn down an opportunity. Well, not unless Grimlock made him. Swoop was always sad when Grimlock told him he couldn't go flying.

What was he doing again? Besides flying. Oh, yeah, looking for Autobots. Looking for Wheeljack and Bumblebee. Or looking for Decepticons.

If Swoop found any Decepticons, that would be good, too. Optimus Prime had said so. And Grimlock agreed. But Optimus Prime had said not to fight Decepticons if Swoop saw them, and Grimlock . . . had grudgingly agreed with that too. Optimus Prime had a point, even if Swoop didn't like it. If there was even just one Decepticon, likely there were more because even the Decepticons wouldn't be stupid enough to be out by themselves. Even though Swoop was a Dinobot and very powerful, he might find there were more Decepticons than he thought there were, and he could be captured or offlined since he didn't have back-up. Optimus Prime had reminded them of some of their past experiences. All five Dinobots together could take on the Decepticons, but one alone would have trouble. Especially Swoop. It wouldn't take much for a Decepticon to shoot a hole in one of Swoop's wings, and then Swoop couldn't fly and couldn't get back to base to warn the others. Swoop didn't want his wings damaged! So he would obey Grimlock and Optimus Prime. Swoop wouldn't engage Decepticons and get his wings damaged and then maybe get captured while he was out here all by himself. He'd just look to see what they were doing and go back to base.

And what was it he was looking for, exactly? Besides Decepticons. Oh, yeah, looking for Autobots. Looking for Wheeljack and Bumblebee.

Swoop didn't think that should be so hard. Wheeljack had a lot of white on his body, which tended to reflect the sun when it shone on him, and it was a sunny day right now with few clouds in the sky. And Bumblebee was bright yellow. He was _really_ hard to miss! Swoop wondered how Bumblebee managed to sneak around and do stuff when he was so hard to miss being seen. Maybe it was because he was so small. Swoop had to be careful around him and the other Minibots – they were easy to step on or trip over by accident. Swoop hadn't meant to trip over Cliffjumper and Gears the other day. He hadn't seen them. Well . . . it was their fault they'd gotten tripped over, anyway. They were too small. They should have been watching where they were going. It wasn't Swoop's fault he hadn't seen them.

So what _was_ he was looking for again? Besides Minibots. Oh, yeah, looking for Autobots. Looking for Wheeljack and Bumbleb-!

The crackle of high-powered laser energy, followed by an explosive _boom,_ cut through Swoop's thoughts, pulling his attention to a deep gully to his right. Swoop dipped his wing and arced back around through the air, dropping swiftly lower to get a better view. He sailed south of the sound, then followed the ravine back up, looking for the source. In no time, he spotted a gathering of Decepticons around what looked like a squat tower on tank treads with perforated spheres at the ends of two opposing metal pipes mounted to the structure just under the rounded top. And standing next to it was a familiar and unexpected mech among the small crowd of enemies.

"Wheeljack?" Swoop asked aloud to no one in particular. "What me Swoop's creator doing with Decepticons?" Was he a prisoner . . . or was he working for them? Swoop swung about again and dropped even lower, intent on finding out.

* * *

Wheeljack watched as something he helped build worked exactly as it was supposed to on the first try . . . and tried not to choke on the irony. _Probably first time in my whole existence that I _didn't_ want somethin' of mine ta work . . . _

The rocky outcrop shattered under the powerful pulse of the Negavator, stone debris reducing to clumps of fine dust that fell to the ground in a glittering shower. The gathered mechs erupted in a chorus of cheers. All of them save Wheeljack, who could only suppress a shudder at the destructive power now in his enemies' hands.

Megatron clapped, laughing in cruel delight. "Excellent! _Eeeexcellent!_ It works even better than I'd hoped!" He looked at Wheeljack, smirking in triumph. "You should be celebrating as well, my dear inventor. Are you not pleased that your device works?"

_Only if it means getting' ta turn it on you an' your cronies before the Autobots or anyone else ever know it's been rebuilt_, Wheeljack thought in silent, impotent rage, not daring to give any outward indication at all of his opinion. He'd already slipped up once since starting this project, and poor Bumblebee was missing a measurable portion of his right foot as a consequence. Instead, he pulled his gaze from Megatron and pinned it back on the Negavator, fiddling almost absently with the binders on his wrists.

It had been a few weeks since the demonstration he and the others had put on for the U.S. Air Force. Wheeljack had built a super-weapon that the humans could use to help defend themselves against the Decepticons, and a human officer had secured clearance for a test run at a massive bunker up in Nevada that Grapple had designed and several Autobots helped build. When the weapon – and the bunker – wound up destroyed after the Decepticons attempted to steal it, the humans declined having another built for them, fearing it too might wind up taken. Prime had agreed and told Wheeljack not to rebuild the Negavator even for the Autobots' purposes. It worked a little _too_ well for his tastes, considering its ability to completely atomize things even up to the size of a small rocket gantry. There was nothing, really, that the thing _couldn't_ destroy in two or three shots at most. Wheeljack couldn't argue and had even promised to destroy the schematics.

What he'd not counted on was Starscream managing to scan the original prototype during the very brief time it was in his hands. The scientist-turned-ruthless-conqueror-wannabe configured new schematics to rebuild the Negavator himself. His plans had turned out to be incomplete, though, and he'd not figured out what exactly was still required, thus the need to capture Wheeljack to finish the job.

The Autobot engineer shook his head as he gazed at the super-weapon. _So . . . it's workin', at least for now. Now what?_ He wondered for himself, but mostly he worried about Bumblebee.

The piercing cry of a predatory bird broke through his thoughts just then as a large shadow sped across the ground at the group, overtaking and passing them without stopping. Yelps of surprise and anger erupted from the Decepticons as they turned to open fire on the intruder.

Wheeljack flinched in spite of himself and looked up as well. "Swoop!" he cried. Relief and worry warred in him as he watched the Dinobot, being chased by Laserbeak, wing around in a loop to get behind her for a shot with his optic lasers even as he twisted and spun to avoid weapons-fire. Swoop managed to force the Cassetticon condor into a wall of the gully, disabling her, then swung around and up out of sight over a cliff edge. Wheeljack looked around, expecting to hear Grimlock's thunderous roar or Prime's voice calling a charge, but no other sounds came. _Swoop must have been out scoutin' alone_, he realized. _Slag, he'll get himself shot down if he's not careful_. He wondered if he could get Swoop to take a message back to base, and if he could get it to the Dinobot without any of the Decepticons knowing what he'd done. _Oh, wait! Maybe I can!_ Soundwave, the Decepticons' communications officer, wasn't here, and he was the only one whom Wheeljack thought might know the obscure code.

The Decepticons had ceased firing, heads and weapons swiveling as they scanned the foliage along the top edge of the ravine. A few minutes later, Wheeljack spotted Swoop's robot face peer out for just an instant from within some bushes on the opposite side before pulling back out of sight. Thankfully, no one else seemed to have noticed.

_Boy, I sure hope this works_, Wheeljack thought, knowing what would happen to Bumblebee if the Decepticons even suspected he was up to something. Gazing in the general direction he'd seen Swoop's face, he kept his vocal modulator silent, switching to another protocol entirely as he flashed the indicator flanges on either side of his head.

* * *

Swoop had swung widely around, approaching again from the other side and landing in root-mode to escape the concentrated weapons-fire. Okay, maybe Optimus Prime had been right. When Swoop had seen the Decepticons, he'd been so eager for a fight, he went ahead and dove in, though Laserbeak spotted him and raised the alarm before he could surprise-attack the group on the ground. Without anyone else here to draw off some of the attention, Swoop realized the wisdom of not attacking when he was alone. Three shots in rapid succession had very nearly punctured one or the other of his wings, a fourth clipping the right – though thankfully without damaging it enough to keep him from flying. He had found Wheeljack and needed to be able to get that information back to Grimlock. He couldn't let himself be shot down. And that was probably what would happen if he stayed. But . . . he was so close to his creator right now! If he could just–

But where was the other one? Where was Bumblebee? Could Swoop go back yet until he knew? Swoop peeked his face out through a clump of bushes at the edge of the ravine, gaze sweeping the group briefly before pulling back out of sight. Through the leaves, he saw Wheeljack turn his way. Wheeljack didn't make a sound, but the things on his head flashed like he was talking. Huh? What did it mean? Swoop figured it must mean something. There _did_ seem to be some kind of discernable pattern to it, though it was indecipherable to the Dinobot. Swoop wasn't even sure Grimlock would understand. But Optimus Prime might. As much as Swoop might not want to admit it – he didn't particularly like the soft leader of the Autobots – he knew that the old mech was smart and knew lots of things. And he was old friends with Wheeljack, so maybe he'd know what Wheeljack was doing.

Whatever it was, it must have been something important because Swoop watched Megatron turn and spot him doing it. The Decepticon backhanded Wheeljack, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Swoop growled, but he didn't dare try to help his creator. The best thing Swoop could do now was get back to base right away and let the others know what he'd found.


	6. Simulator

Author's Note – MUCH THANKS to MyAibou for all her hard work helping me research possible locations for the Negavator testing.

Cybertronian time measurements: vorn = 83 Earth years, stellar cycle = 1 Earth year, deca-cycle = about 3 Earth weeks, solar cycle = 1 Earth day, joor = about two Earth hours, breem = 8.3 Earth minutes, astro-second = .498 Earth second.

Disclaimer – "Transformers" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Hasbro, Takara, and any other related owners/distributors/producers. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"Paid in Full"  
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 6 – Simulator

_Autobot Headquarters, tip of the Sierra Nevada Mts, California  
Early evening_

"There you go," Ratchet said, snapping shut the access panel on Powerglide's flank. "That should be the last of it. You let me know if that altitude stabilizer continues to act up, though."

The aerial Minibot warrior sat up on the repair berth. "Thanks, Doc. I knew you could do it. Look out, world!" he added, pumping both fists in the air. "Ol' Powerglide's back up and flyin'!"

Over his right shoulder, Ratchet heard the maintenance specialist, Hoist, chuckle. "You sure you couldn't have shut down his vocal modulator while you were at it, Doc?"

Powerglide shook a finger at Hoist, though Ratchet couldn't miss the grin still audible in the smaller mech's tone. "Hey, watch it, buddy. You're talkin' to the guy who's gonna save the day here! Soon as Prime gives me the okay to head out, I'm gonna go find me some MIA Autobots."

_MIA? No . . . POW, you mean._ Ratchet turned away with a grimace, covering the act by picking up tools from his worktray to start returning to their storage bins. _Slag it! What the smelt were you two thinking?_ the ambulance-based medic demanded silently, deep worry turning to anger at both of his friends. He wasn't sure which one of them had him more upset. Bumblebee knew better! He was usually more responsible than this. Then again, Ratchet knew all too well how persuasive Wheeljack's enthusiasm could be over some new toy or other. The medic had built up immunity to his best friend's pleas some time ago – or so he liked to believe – but Wheeljack was Bumblebee's creator, and the Minibot was still young yet. And eager. Sometimes too eager. If there had been _anyone_ Wheeljack could convince to pull something ridiculous with him, it was likely Bumblebee.

_Frag it, I'm going to scrap the both of them from the knees down so neither one of them can go _anywhere_ until I say otherwise!_

"That won't be necessary."

Ratchet jumped and spun towards the door of the Med-bay, briefly wondering if Jazz had suddenly developed an ability to read minds. Then, he realized it was probably a response to Powerglide's last comment.

The other two had also turned to face the Porsche Turbo-based Special Ops officer standing in the doorway. "Someone's found Wheeljack and Bumblebee?" Hoist asked, his expression hopeful.

Jazz cycled air in a deep sigh as he shook his head. His scat-man-blues drawl was an odd counter to his solemn mood. "Well, one of 'em, anyway. Swoop just got back from a patrol an' says he found 'Jack in a ravine with some 'Cons a few hundred miles north'a here. Chip's pullin' up a map for him ta look over an' see if he can point out just where that was." He turned to Ratchet. "Doc, Prime's askin' for ya. Might need ya to peek in Swoop's memory banks for some of what he saw. Swoop says 'Jack was flashin' at him like he was talkin' but no sound comin' outta his vocal modulator."

Ratchet frowned. "Optical code?"

"That's my guess." Jazz shrugged. "Won't know until we see it."

"All right. I'll be right there. Just let me – "

Ratchet had turned to finish putting things away as he spoke, but Hoist waved him off. "I'll finish cleaning up in here, Ratch. You go see what you can pull from ol' Dinobird's processor."

Powerglide snorted as he hopped down off the repair berth but refrained from commenting. For himself, the medic just nodded. "Thanks, Hoist." With that, he and Powerglide followed Jazz out and down one level to the main control center.

A small platform had been built some time back for the Autobots' human friends to be able to reach Teletraan I's controls as easily as anyone else. Sunstreaker had given up the console to the human computer whiz Chip Chase, who was busy typing in commands to tap into a satellite view of the continent's southwest, his wheelchair pulled up close to the console. Looking at the screen, Ratchet thought he could pick out their volcano from the rough terrain in the aerial view. The human engineer Sparkplug and his son Spike each stood behind Chip's wheelchair, with Swoop crouched down behind them off the edge of the platform. Grimlock and the rest of the Dinobots clustered around him on one side, Optimus Prime and a number of the command staff on the other side. Other specialists and warriors, pretty much everyone on base right now, filled the rest of the room, at least two dozen in all.

The wide gathering of mechs attested to the close-knit ranks of the Autobots, everyone present and eager for news of their missing companions. Not that Ratchet expected otherwise, but it was an odd comfort all the same.

"Okay," Chip murmured, glancing up over his shoulder at the aerial Dinobot as he adjusted controls and the view swept slowly northeastward. "So you'd headed towards Arizona. Were there any mountains?"

Swoop shook his head. "Nope, no mountains. Well, to the north but not where me Swoop was. Big river, though! Me Swoop followed big river past _big_, big canyon!" The Dinobot threw out his arms for emphasis, and Cliffjumper and Seaspray, standing next to him, ducked out of the arc, Cliffjumper with a low, startled curse.

"What you found, Swoop, was the Colorado River," Sparkplug put in. "The big canyon is called the Grand Canyon."

"Oh, well, ain't that an appropriate name," Ironhide observed with a snicker.

Ratchet saw Chip shrug, grinning up at the old veteran. "Well, it _is_ the largest of its kind in the world."

"Our world, anyway." Spike gazed up at the Autobots around him. "Do you guys have canyons on Cybertron?"

Optimus Prime shook his head. "We have similar formations in metal between buildings and other superstructures, but not in rock carved by rivers like you do. Swoop, did you see Wheeljack in the Grand Canyon somewhere?"

"In canyon, but not Grand Canyon. Much, much smaller." Swoop tracked the image as Chip continued to adjust the controls and the satellite view moved farther upriver, magnification slowly increasing. "Me Swoop see him Wheeljack and Decepticons up here somewhere." He pushed to his feet and leaned over, reaching to tap the screen a little north of the Grand Canyon.

"What's in that area?" Prowl wanted to know, no doubt his strategist's mind working on a dozen possibilities already.

"Quite a bit, actually." Sparkplug ticked off the names on his fingers. "Glen Canyon on the Colorado. Green River's got Gray Canyon, Desolation Canyon – "

Brawn's snort interrupted him. "Bets that the Decepticons were in _Desolation_ Canyon?"

"It'd sure fit 'em," Cliffjumper agreed with a growl.

The view tightened further still, and Swoop let out a squawk. "Wait! There . . . go back a little. There. Me Swoop saw him Wheeljack in that ravine."

Sparkplug crossed his arms, giving a sardonic chuckle. "Well, looks like you were right, Brawn. That's the neighborhood of Desolation Canyon, if I'm not mistaken."

Prime's arms were similarly folded as he studied the terrain on the screen. Ratchet heard the grimace in his voice. "From the satellite view, that doesn't _look_ like an area of high population…" Ratchet knew their commander was worried about a risk to human lives with any confrontation that would inevitably erupt between the factions.

"It's not," Spike assured him. "Handfuls of hikers, rangers, and nature photographers, but that's about it, really. Dad and I visited the area about two years ago, right before Dad got the job on that oil rig."

Sparkplug nodded. "If the Decepticons wanted to do something out of the sight of prying eyes, that's probably about as good a place as any to do it."

"Whatever 'it' is," Prowl rejoined.

"And that's what we need to find out." Prime turned to the Dinobot. "Swoop, did it look like they had any kind of encampment set up there?"

"No, no encampment. Just a big, loud weapon. Me Swoop not seen it before."

Ironhide growled. "Could be some kinda one-time-use contraption like that crusher thing they built up in Nevada. Remember?"

"I remember, old friend," Prime assured him, laying a hand on the red van's shoulder. "All too well."

Ratchet remembered too. He remembered the massive amount of work he and Wheeljack had done getting their fellows repaired and back in shape. A huge chunk of their forces had been ambushed and locked in alt-mode by the Decepticons at a charity car race and had gotten the slag beaten out of them. Then, they were nearly fed to a horrific shredding and compacting machine that Megatron had the Constructicons build in some forgotten "ghost" town a little ways north of the racetrack's town. The Autobots came far too close to losing Ironhide that day. They'd come close to losing a _lot_ of people that day.

Ratchet prayed they'd not have another day like that now. Or worse.

The medic saw Prime shift to sweep his gaze over the rest of the room, the commander's optics landing on him almost immediately. Prime waved him closer. "Swoop, I've asked Ratchet to come in about accessing your memory banks and let us see what you saw."

Swoop took a step back. "No! Me Swoop not want anyone in Swoop's head!"

_Never mind that I helped put that head of yours together to begin with._ Ratchet cycled air in a sigh, raising both hands to placate the Dinobot. "I wouldn't be digging for anything or changing anything, Swoop." He could guess what Prime wanted him to do. It was a relatively simple, if uncommon, procedure. "All I'm going to do is connect your memory core to the monitor. Whatever you actively recall seeing and hearing, as you think about it, it'll be put through the computer so we can see and hear it too. You'd be in full control."

Grimlock had been standing back watching and listening, but at this, he stepped forward and prodded the side of Swoop's head with one big finger. "We can't see what Swoop saw if Swoop not share."

The triceratops Dinobot, Slag, elbowed him from the other side. "Me Slag say Swoop scared!"

"Swoop not scared!" the bombardier squawked in protest. As if to prove it, he marched across to Ratchet, towering more than head and shoulders over the medic as he glared down. "Me Swoop say you do this now!"

Ratchet managed to catch himself from backpedaling as the massive Dinobot stomped up to him. He couldn't, however, keep himself from throwing up his hands again, this time in self-defense. "Whoa, easy, big fella. No need to get upset." _Not at me, anyway!_

There were a lot of times that Ratchet found himself _really sorry_ that he and Wheeljack had ever built the behemoths to begin with. Still, what was done was done, and the bestial quintet wasn't _all_ bad. They just . . . needed outlets that living in the _Ark_ with the other Autobots couldn't always provide them. _Thanks be to Primus for Dinobot Island!_ The medic shook himself from that line of thinking and gestured Swoop to go with him over to the left of Teletraan I's main console. Reluctant, Swoop followed.

Ratchet dug out cables from a storage cabinet under the side console, then motioned at the Dinobot. "Kneel down, Swoop." Swoop moved to do so but stopped at an angry snarl from behind him.

This time, Ratchet _did_ backpedal – quickly – as the powerful tyrannosaurus-based Grimlock stalked up beside his teammate, glowering down at the medic. "No! Dinobots _no_ kneel to Autobots. Especially weak medi-bot who can't fight."

"Grimlock!" Prime warned sharply, his voice a growl as he and several others moved to their chief medical officer's defense.

Ratchet huffed and straightened himself up to full height, knowing that Grimlock wouldn't actually hurt him. Or anyway, he was pretty sure. His temper flared to match the Dinobot's as he thought that his best friend didn't have time for this. He waved off the others and fixed an angry glare on the Dinobot. "Back off, Grimlock. This isn't a matter of submission. It's a matter of me needing at ports in the side of Swoop's head and, in case you haven't noticed, _I'm not tall enough to reach_. And Wheeljack and Bumblebee might not have the time for me to look for a fragging stepladder. So unless _you_ want to give me a lift, Grimlock, Swoop needs to come down where I can reach his head."

Grimlock eyed him an astro-second longer but finally relented. "All right. You Swoop do what medi-bot says. For now."

Swoop, for his part, had just stood aside, glancing back and forth between the two and waiting for a decision. At Grimlock's word, he complied easily, kneeling and turning his head for Ratchet to open the panel on the side, exposing the ports to his processor.

Ratchet made the connections quickly, switched out one fingertip for an attachment inside that allowed him to connect to another port and adjust some settings, then moved to Teletraan I's side console and completed the hook-up.

Everyone watched in fascination as the view on the screen changed from the comparatively grainy satellite feed to an ultra-sharp vision of low altitude flight. Swoop's yellow beak could be seen in the bottom center of the screen, his red Autobrand upside-down in the view. The rest of the screen showed the semi-arid expanse of Arizona zooming by. Over the speakers could be heard the rush of air as it had swept past Swoop's audios.

Chip backed his wheelchair away from the console to better take in what he was seeing. "Whoa! It's like really flying."

Mirage shook his head. "I think I'll keep my wheels on the ground, thanks."

Powerglide snickered at him. "Well, you know what they say, Mirage. If you can't take the height, stay outta the skies!"

The Formula-1 racer-based marksman only glared back, unfazed. "You stick to your expertise, Powerglide, and I'll stick to mine."

"Autobots," Prime admonished, "let's stay on tas– "

A resounding _boom_ over the speakers interrupted the commander, and all optics returned to the screen. Ratchet watched the images tilt wildly and blur a little as the view banked around.

"Swoop thought maybe that was Wheeljack," the Dinobot explained.

That got amused laughter from several of those present, even tempered as it was by deep worry. The maroon tank-warrior, Warpath, voiced what everyone was thinking. "Zam-_pow!_ When is there ever an explosion that – whooo! – Wheeljack's _not_ behind?"

Prime chuckled softly. "True, Warpath, though remember that's not always the case. Still, you did well, Swoop. Any unexpected explosion should be investigated."

"Maybe not always the case, Prime, but looks like it was this time. Look!" Gears pointed at the upper right corner of the screen where several figures came into view, growing and sliding to the center as Swoop's viewpoint changed and closed in on them.

Ratchet felt his servos tighten in dread. It was Wheeljack, all right, surrounded by some of the worst of the Decepticons, Megatron included. Ratchet couldn't help but notice the binders cuffing his best friend's wrists, preventing him from transforming and likely programmed to trigger motor paralysis with an encrypted radio signal if desired. Ratchet had seen – and worn – the like before.

And at the center of the gathering –

"The Negavator?" Prime observed with a start.

"But . . . how is that possible?" Prowl wanted to know. "The prototype was destroyed."

"As were the plans," Red Alert put in. "Or anyway, they were _supposed_ to be." There was an understandable level of negativity in his reaction, considering the fiasco of his experiences related to the original invention, and so recently.

Still, Ratchet scowled at Red Alert's tone. True, it was the security director's job to monitor things, but the medic was not about to let him question Wheeljack's loyalty or compliance to Optimus Prime. "They _were_, Red Alert. I was there. I helped him erase them from his workstation datatracks."

Prowl nodded. "I did a scan for them all through Teletraan One's system. The files were successfully destroyed."

"What about his own datatracks?" Red Alert tapped a finger against the side of his head.

"Ah, c'mon, Red," Inferno cajoled. "Think about it. You make it sound like you think our 'Jack might'a been planning something."

"I-I . . . well . . . " Red Alert looked around the room, then drew a cycle of air as his gaze dropped. "No, of course not. Not with the Decepticons."

Ratchet gave Inferno a nod of thanks. Like the medic's own close relationship with Wheeljack, the fire truck search-and-rescue specialist was best friends with Red Alert and served a similar balancing function, his easy common sense tempering the security director's natural paranoia.

"Besides, Wheeljack couldn't have built that thing." Hoist had long since joined the group from the med-bay. "Not most of it, anyway. Remember? It took him the better part of four solar cycles to build and perfect the last one once he'd worked out the design. Even assuming he didn't have to tinker with it again to get it operational this time, I don't see him getting it built at all in under one solar cycle, and he's not been gone from here even half that."

Prime rubbed at the bottom of his mouthplate in thought. "Which means the Decepticons began its construction before getting their hands on Wheeljack."

"But how?" Red Alert wanted to know.

Jazz shrugged, speaking up for the first time. "Well, we know that Starscream was a scientist once upon a time. Dude probably scanned the last one at some point. An' the Constructicons bein' the buildin' specialists _they_ are…"

"Guys," Spike put in, "there's something else I think we're forgetting." The anguish in the young human's voice drew everyone's attention as he pointed at the screen. By this time, the memory-view from Swoop had swung around for the second time. The image tilted and spun wildly as Swoop dodged the weapons fire the Autobots could hear crackling over the speakers. It then washed out in blinding white for a few astro-seconds when the Dinobot used his optic beams against Laserbeak. Swoop was wheeling around again by the time the image returned, affording everyone another clear view of the whole gathering for just an instant before Swoop was beyond the edge of the ravine, traveling way out to circle back and approach from another direction. "The Decepticons have Bumblebee too, remember? But he's not there. Where is he?"

"Me Swoop not know. Swoop sorry!"

Prime stepped over to the Dinobot and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Don't be, Swoop. You've done well." Swoop grinned at him.

"That could be why Wheeljack's cooperating, _if_ he is," Ratchet mused quietly. "They're probably using Bumblebee as leverage." As with the Dinobots, Wheeljack had designed and built Bumblebee – indeed, most of the Minibots – and it was common knowledge among the Autobots that their mechanical engineer would do just about anything for the small field agent or any others of his living creations.

Cliffjumper growled. "Megatron's gonna _pay for this_." He too was one of Wheeljack's creations, and Bumblebee's closest friend.

"That he will, Cliffjumper," Prime agreed, his tone uncharacteristically cold. "But first, we have to know for sure where to find them. Wheeljack may have tried to get a message to us. Swoop, you told me that you saw him flashing at you."

"Swoop did!" The image on the screen blurred again as Swoop skipped forward in his memories. The view now was close behind rocks and sparse foliage at the top of a drop-off as Swoop had peered through them down to the ravine floor below. Wheeljack was looking up in his general direction, his vocal indicator flanges blinking though he himself was silent. The sounds of running water, the breeze blowing by Swoop's head, and the distant chatter of the Decepticons told the gathered Autobots that their engineer's silence wasn't due to a lack of audio in the memory.

"Looks like . . . some kinda Morse code," Sparkplug observed.

Chip shook his head. "It's just gibberish if it is."

"You know Morse code?" Spike asked, gaping at him. Chip shrugged with a sheepish grin.

"S'not gibberish, Chip," Jazz corrected, staring intently at the screen. "It's Cybertronian. It's a visual version of our language called optical code."

Ratchet largely ignored them, attention fixed on his best friend. He watched in alarm as Megatron spotted what Wheeljack was doing and backhanded him hard enough to knock the engineer clean off his feet. The angry reactions around Ratchet mirrored his own as his hands clenched into fists in protective fury. _Wheeljack…_ He remembered the mess the Decepticons had made of his best friend the last time they'd had their hands on him. Psychologically, it had taken him nearly three vorns to recover, and physically he'd been so badly damaged that Ratchet initially questioned if he would even survive long enough to make it back to Autobase in Iacon for surgery.

Besides the strike he'd just taken, however, Wheeljack didn't look to be injured at all. Ratchet thought that should have been a relief – and in a sense, it was – but it only made him all the more spark-sick as he wondered how Bumblebee was faring.

All of this went through the medic's processor in an astro-second before Jazz made a worried, angry noise that drew his attention. "Bad News City, folks. 'Jack says they've got Bumblebee in the _Victory_ an' that he's in a real bad way. Says we need ta get him outta there pronto!"

Prime straightened with a nod. "That's the confirmation we needed. Autobots!"

Prime went on to organize battle assignments – he and Prowl would take a combat unit out to Desolation Canyon while Jazz led a strike force that would dive to the _Victory_ – but Ratchet only nominally listened, reeling a bit as it seemed his fears were confirmed. He spoke up as Prime began to list him among those staying behind to guard the base. "No, Prime. I think I need to go with the strike force. If Bumblebee's that badly off, he might need on-site emergency attention."

"I'm goin' with the strike force too, Prime!" Cliffjumper growled. Ratchet knew the Minibot was as worried as he was about Bumblebee.

Prime considered it for only an astro-second before nodding. "Very well, Ratchet, Cliffjumper." He swept his gaze around the room. "Autobots, transform and _roll out!_"


	7. Terms of Engagement

Author's Note – Special thanks to reviewer sparklespepper for being so patient with me while at the same time gently poking me now and then about this story. It's not that I believe in the practice of an author demanding reader interest for her to deign to continue a given fic. Quite the opposite, in fact – I hate when writers do that. This story sitting fallow as long as it has, has been due to some logistics glitches in the story itself, namely working out the "blocking" of the coming battles (I have a strong-ish theater background, can you tell? XD), as well as RL attempting to eat me alive for the past year and a half. But sparklespepper's continued interest has encouraged me to keep coming back and trying to pick at the battle sequence and block out something workable, especially given the number of characters present. My deepest apologies if I flub any characterizations, now or in later chapters. I have tried – and will continue to try – my hardest to handle everyone well. My New Year's Resolution is to finish this fic this year. :jazz hands!:

My thanks also as always to my friend, MyAibou, for always being willing to beta for me, especially in a fandom she's not familiar with. ILU, BB!

Cybertronian time measurements: vorn = 83 Earth years, stellar cycle = 1 Earth year, deca-cycle = about 3 Earth weeks, solar cycle = 1 Earth day, a joor = about two Earth hours, breem = 8.3 Earth minutes, astro-second = .498 Earth second.

Disclaimer – "Transformers" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Hasbro, Takara, and any other related owners/distributors/producers. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"Paid in Full"  
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 7 – Terms of Engagement

_Desolation Canyon, Utah  
Three hours later_

If there was one gripe Optimus Prime had about Earth with its odd, ever-changing terrain, its speed-limiting traffic rules, and its even more limiting vehicular builds, it was how long it could take to get from Point A to Point B, especially when time was of the essence. And there was no available transport shuttle, living or otherwise. Not that he didn't completely understand the causes of and the needs for such limits, but it grated on him all the same at times. Like now.

As it was, they'd broken speed limits whenever safe to do so to make it as far as they had in the time they had. Also, Prowl's alt-mode as a police cruiser, Inferno's fire truck alt, and Red Alert's alt as a fire chief's vehicle had proven extremely advantageous, changing intersection lights and using their sirens to get people to move. And the rest of the convoy expertly sticking bumper-to-bumper and door-to-door with no visible drivers – plus the sight of the Dinobots flying low overheard – was generally enough to keep others from trying to fall in among or too close behind to take advantage of their momentum.

The sun had dropped over the horizon a joor ago. Optimus had lost visual on his two aerial scouts due to loss of the artificial lighting that came with civilization and a thick cloud cover blanketing the stars from view. True, he could track them via onboard scanners, and they were well within communications range, but there was something comforting about being able to _see_ his mechs.

Especially considering what they were up against.

Megatron had Wheeljack. And he had what seemed to be a fully-functional Negavator. Optimus remembered the incredible power of the last one and could only hope that he was mistaken about the "fully-functional" part now. Not because he had any question about his chief engineer's abilities, but because he knew to rely on them. Because he knew that if Wheeljack had been at _all_ able to slip it in, he would have sabotaged the terrible weapon. Wheeljack was a lot of things, but Optimus knew as well as anyone that, when push came to shove, the engineer was absolutely no fool.

He just hoped his engineer was _all right_.

"Grimlock!" Swoop's voice over the company-wide comm cut through Optimus' thoughts just then. "We coming up on canyon soon."

"Confirmed, Prime." That was Powerglide. "Me an' Swoop are about to zoom over it now, which means you guys're probably Ee-Tee-Ay about a breem, maybe breem-and-a-half."

"Understood, Powerglide, Swoop. Prowl, Grimlock, take your teams and split off following your scouts' advice. Everyone keep open comms. Remember – minimal contact with the Decepticons. We don't want a drawn-out fight. It could get Wheeljack hurt if not killed, plus it would give Megatron far too much chance to turn that Negavator on us. We got lucky that no one was seriously hurt by the last one. I don't intend to press that luck. Get Wheeljack, destroy the Negavator, get _out_."

"Him Wheeljack maybe not still there."

"I'm aware, Grimlock. In which case, Jazz's team will extract him with Bumblebee, or else we'll hunt him and his captors down between there and here. Let's just focus on one thing at a time for now."

"Dinobots hunt _good_." The threat in the T-rex's growl was crystal-clear.

The two flanking teams split off, Grimlock leading Snarl, Slag, and Sludge while Mirage, Red Alert, and Bluestreak veered away behind Prowl's lead. Remaining with Optimus were Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Smokescreen, Trailblazer, Warpath, Ironhide, Gears, Huffer, Inferno, and Windcharger.

Optimus couldn't help feeling surprise that, rather than have to be cajoled, Grimlock had offered his team for this assault from the get-go. Despite the T-rex's outward ambivalence earlier, Optimus should have known that Grimlock and the others were just as outraged at their creator's capture as the rest of the company. The one mech the feral Dinobots, including Grimlock, would heed, even when they'd listen to no one else, was Wheeljack. They tended to keep to themselves with little regard or respect for the rest of the company more times than not, but Wheeljack they loved and could be protective of him as they were no one else. Woe betide the Decepticons if the engineer had been harmed in any measurable way.

"Anything?" Optimus asked.

"Found canyon," Swoop put in helpfully, "but nobody home."

Ironhide grunted. "The cowards're probably hiding."

"Ambush?" asked Smokescreen.

"It'd figure," Gears snorted.

"All scanners on high sensitivity," Optimus ordered. "Ambush or not, we've got a fellow Autobot to bring home."

"Assuming he's here."

"We've already addressed that, Huffer," Optimus commented patiently. The Minibot was, as he referred to himself, a "realist." But Optimus could hear it in his voice – he was scared. The Minibots, like the Dinobots, had been built by the engineer, and Huffer was just as genuinely rattled as anyone.

"Don't worry, buddy," Sideswipe assured the Minibot. "One way or another, we'll get him back."

"Yeah," muttered Sunstreaker, "and then I'm gonna kick his tailpipe myself."

"How about deciding that _after_ we see what the 'Cons have done to him first, eh?" Trailbreaker suggested.

Optimus wholesparkedly agreed.

Upon reaching the canyon, he rolled straight into it without bothering with stealth. He knew that Megatron knew he'd be coming. The main force was a decoy as much as anything, hence his keeping some of his sturdiest mechs with him. His real plan lay with his flanking teams. His own team's best hope stood in the fact that Optimus could almost always count on Megatron's ego to keep him from a truly successful ambush. Any time the Decepticon leader had some new toy to bring to bear on the Autobots, the mech gloated first and shot second, giving Optimus and his mechs those precious astro-seconds they needed to get out of Dodge.

"You're too late, Optimus Prime!"

_Right on cue_. Optimus transformed, sending his Combat Deck a safe distance back out of the way. He noted his mechs transforming around him as he turned to scan the tops of the cliffs. He easily spotted the silver gleam of Megatron's armor even without the benefit of starlight.

"Your precious engineer serves _me_ now!" Megatron reached one black hand to pat the flank of his Negavator, which Optimus guessed must have been hidden under some kind of camouflage until now. "And look at the parting gift he's given me for you. I'm sure you remember this. Did you know it would be here waiting for you? Did your birdbrained Dinobot even know what it was?"

Optimus hoped Grimlock wouldn't react too soon to the insult to one of his mechs, nor allow Swoop to do so. To his relief, there was no response from the cliffs.

There was, however, a response from the ground. Standing by Optimus' hip, Warpath pointed at the Decepticon with a growl. "_BLAM!_ Why don't you come down _here_ and say that, Mega-Turkey?"

"Oh, I think not, my rambunctious Minibot. I rather like a good game of shooting retro-rats in a barrel. Decepticons, attack!"

"Autobots, take cover!"

Optimus didn't have to tell them twice. The company scattered as two flights of Seekers strafed them from opposite ends of the canyon, with Starscream, Thundercracker, and Skywarp streaking overhead from in front while Ramjet led a charge from behind them trailed by Dirge and Thrust. Rifle shots perforated the ground around the Autobots' feet as they split up to press their backs to the canyon walls and return fire. A shot from Ironhide put a sizable dent in Dirge's fuselage, and Gears and Huffer coordinated fire to try to take down Skywarp. Thrust managed a solid shot on Smokescreen, who fell back clutching a wounded arm. Trailbreaker's force field was doing an excellent job of protecting his fellows on that side of the canyon with him, but he kept having to drop it for astro-seconds at a time so the others could shoot – the shield kept in as much as it kept out. Optimus glanced around to spot Sideswipe and Sunstreaker scaling the canyon wall to his left, around enough of a bend in the rock that they weren't in immediate sight of most of the Decepticons. He could only guess what the twin frontliners were up to and prayed they didn't get themselves killed first.

So far, the main force was holding its own well enough, and Optimus put off calling in reinforcements. They wouldn't be able to go back if they had to – the canyon narrowed too much to be safe – but if retreat proved necessary, it wouldn't be impossible to push forward from this position through a slight bottleneck of rocks into what looked like a wider area beyond. But then movement in that space caught his attention . . . green movement. Six construction vehicles drove into sight. Optimus barely caught Scrapper's voice over the din of combat and the roar of his own ion rifle, but it was enough.

"Constructicons, merge to form Devastator!"

Okay, _now_ was the time to call in the reinforcements.


End file.
